


running if you call my name

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, bandfic au, blackhill - Freeform, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Jemma’s birthday, Skye thinks she could track an old band and convince them to play one last song. Never too early for Shield bandfic AUs, I suppose. Where Maria Hill has difficulty burying old grudges, Melinda May fixes planes in a wife beater and Natasha Romanoff is a peacemaker. Yes, there is a band here somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine, but all the mistakes are. Apologies and profuse thanks.

1\. Skye 

"So. No clowns."

"Absolutely." Jemma rolls to her side, propping her head on an elbow. "Don’t you think they’re a bit… _creepy_ , or anything?”

Skye laughs. “Also, you’re thirty years old. So yes, clowns as entertainment at your birthday party _will_ be creepy.”

"I suppose so." Jemma sighs, breathing in and closing her eyes. "This is a lot of work. Maybe we should just… I don’t know."

"Don’t you _dare._ ”

"Dare _what?_ ”

"You know what’s a lot of work? Those biology finals you aced back in the day. That proposal you turned in last week. But this?” Skye touches Jemma’s shoulder from across the bed, a careful measured space between them.

"Maybe we should just go out for dinner and drinks—"

“ _No,_ " Skye says, putting on her stern voice. She pushes herself off the bed and rummages through her bag for her laptop. "We are going to pull this party off. We are going to invite everyone we know—"

"So that’s fifteen people. _Including_ Phil.”

"Whatever. Then we’re going to invite _that_ electronica band—”

There’s frantic shuffling behind her as Jemma gets up from bed as well. “Whoa, slow down. _Which_ electronica band?”

Skye smirks as she pushes her laptop’s screen toward Jemma. “This one.” She watches Jemma’s facial expressions morph from one feeling to the next right there, just from looking at a single photo. _Oh Jemma,_ she just thinks. _So transparent_.

"You do know Shield’s been disbanded for years, right?”

"You don’t think old friends would play for this birthday girl?"

Jemma smiles faintly. “Your definition of _old friends_ has always been dubious, Skye.” Skye feels her breath hitch at that; some days, Jemma looks like she _knows_ something, but then it always turns out to be something else and never about this thing between them — whatever it is. “Also, didn’t Maria just drop off everybody’s radar afterwards?”

Skye breathes out. “Good, you’re not playing the _May and Maria would kill each other at sight_ card… yet.”

"I was just about to." Jemma slides closer to Skye on the edge of the bed, looking at the images Skye’s flipping through on her screen. "Would be fun though, no? To see them together again."

“ _Now_ we’re on the same page.”

Jemma laughs, reaching over to type something on Skye’s keyboard. Skye feels her stomach plummet, all the breath leaving her lungs. She leans back, hands behind her planted on the bed, letting Jemma take over. “Now, we just have to find them. Should be easy, right?”

"Right," Skye just says. _Sure. We look for people who do not want to be found all the time._

*

Skye knows this to be true: Finding these women is actually the _easiest_ of all tasks. All Skye has to do is get off the Internet and onto her phone.

 _Why are these women so good at erasing themselves online,_ she groans, scrolling through her phone book. She'd managed to get Phil to say yes to tracking Maria. "Probably backpacking in Kathmandu," he said over the phone. "Probably with Natasha. You know Natasha, right?"

"Of course," Skye says. "The singer."

"Right," says Phil. She can imagine him fiddling with his tie while seated behind his huge desk. The call lasts for three full minutes, which is already generous by Phil's standards, and ends with the promise of an update in two or three days.

"You should have asked him about _May,_ " Jemma says over dinner, hours later.

Skye tries to keep the grimace off her face. "He's our only way to Maria," she says. "We _can't_ ask him to chase after all of them."

"Of course we can."

"No, we _can't_." Skye clears her throat and waits for Jemma to finish her drink. "Besides, you want Coulson to turn down the whole thing? _Including_ the party?"

"He and May are still...?"

“Do you want to risk it?” asks Skye, and Jemma responds with a soft hum, signifying her agreement. “Besides, I could always call someone else for May.”

A look of confusion ghosts over Jemma’s face for a brief moment before she catches on. “You’re not thinking of calling Grant.”

 _Grant._ Skye’s not particularly fond of the guy, considering how horrible things went the last time they saw each other. She’d never seen Phil _and_ Fitz that mad, but then again. “Come on. It’s not like I’m still in love with him.”

“He _cheated_ on you. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“Years ago, Jemma,” Skye says, breathing in. Sometimes, though, it still hurts like a motherfucker, to be played like that, but one look at Jemma right now – face red with this _anger –_ reminds Skye of what actually matters.

“Besides,” continues Skye, starting at her phone screen. “Wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

*

Skye can’t decide which among the things that happened during that phone call to Grant was the most surprising – the politeness, the fact that he picked up at all, or the fact that he led them right to her, no questions asked.

“And we’re here because?”

“Because Melinda May owns this hangar.” Skye looks at her phone again, just to be sure she got the address right. _Of course,_ she thinks to herself, staring at the plane that sits in the middle of it, covered in what looks like a huge parachute. _May would totally own a hangar._

“What do you suppose we should say to May when we see her?” Jemma tries to sound chirpy, but Skye knows that voice. Jemma is _terrified_ of May, always has been. Skye thinks the whole intimidation thing was a bit overrated, but then again, the woman _did_ have a way about her.

“Can I help you?”

Jemma shrieks and Skye tightens her grip around Jemma’s hand. “Jesus Christ, May,” Skye says, voice shaky. When she turns around, she finds May leaning against the plane, arms crossed in front of her chest. The scowl on her grease-stained face tells Skye just how annoyed she is that they’re currently interrupting her mechanic work somewhere in this hangar.

“Hello there. May,” Jemma manages, eventually. “Surprised to see you here.”

“I _own_ this place,” May says flatly. “What brings you here?”

 _Here goes,_ Skye thinks, squaring her shoulders and letting go of Jemma’s hand slowly. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

May looks her over, like she’s trying to tell if Skye’s got a gun tucked under her clothes somewhere. After a moment, she starts moving. “In my office.”

*

“A birthday party,” May repeats, handing Skye a bottle of water. “And you want me to do _what_?”

“Just one song,” Skye pleads. May wipes at her brow with a towel, before scrubbing at the grease on her cheeks and arms. _Man, how does anyone keep themselves this fit?_ she wonders, averting her gaze. “It would mean the _world_ to Jemma.”

“The world,” says May, drinking from her bottle. “I assume you’ve called in the rest.”

Skye blinks. “Look—”

“I don’t have to tell you this is a bad idea, right.”

“Just _one_ , May. Please.”

May looks at her, and for the first time, Skye sees her face _soften._ Skye holds her breath. _Is this it?_ “All right, then.”

“What did you say?”

“I said: Give me the details of this party.”

Skye feels the ground shake a little, and she lets out a little scream. That she is _beside herself_ in joy is an understatement. “Oh my God—May, you have no idea—”

“Oh trust me,” she says, moving out of Skye’s immediate vicinity. “I have an idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

2\. Maria

Maria Hill does not like taking calls while on vacation, but she always finds herself making an exception when it comes to Phil Coulson.

“This better be good,” she greets. “I’m kinda busy right now.” She looks up, squinting at the sun. Natasha’s already in the water, while she’s still here – dry and on the phone with Phil, of all things.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m calling about a birthday party.”

“I’m on the other side of the planet, Phil.”

“We have a few weeks.” Phil pauses. Maria does not like it when Phil pauses like that. “It’s about Shield.”

“I’m hanging up.” Maria means it when she tells people she’s ending a conversation, and so she does, tossing her phone back into her back and lifting her shirt above head. _This sun won’t be there all day,_ she just thinks, wading in after Natasha.

Natasha turns to her, face wet. “I thought we said no phones.”

“Phil doesn’t exactly _get_ vacations,” Maria responds. “He’s almost as bad as Pepper.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at the mention of Pepper Potts—she’s always been a little jealous, though Maria knows Natasha would rather die than admit that. “I’d rather it be Phil on the phone.”

“I figured,” says Maria, watching Natasha swim away. _We should hit the sea more often,_ she notes, swimming away herself. The water is warm and the beach is quiet; could be something nice to get used to.

When they emerge from the water, it’s nearly noon, and by then Phil has managed to leave some thirty or so missed calls. Natasha sighs as she gets up to order lunch. “Fine – call him to make sure everything’s all right and that nobody’s dying, or something.”

“Trust me, _nobody_ is dying,” Maria mutters, dialing Phil’s number.

Phil picks up after _half_ a ring. _Jesus, how important is this?_ “Glad to hear back from you Maria,” Phil greets, as cordial as somebody who hasn’t had to make nearly three dozen unanswered phone calls in the past two hours. “I’ll go straight to the point – I’m calling about Shield. And a birthday party.”

“Whose?” Maria asks, trying to keep her voice down and looking out for Natasha. She has a feeling she wouldn’t want her to overhear this conversation. “Also – there is no more Shield. We broke up. End of story.”

“Jemma Simmons is turning thirty and her girlfriend Skye is throwing a party for her. She wants you to play,” Phil says.

 _Phil’s children,_ Maria thinks. _Of course._ “I didn’t know the kids were dating.”

“They weren’t. I think Skye’s in love with Simmons.” _Fuck,_ Maria thinks.She remembers the last time she saw them – they were basically _babies_. Phil still knows how to sell a cause, and he’s still fucking good at it. “Perhaps you’d be interested in a happily ever after, Maria Hill?”

“Fuck you, Coulson.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

When Maria looks up, Natasha’s walking back over, drinks in each hand, a brow raised. “It’s not a no, but I’ll have to call you back.” She ends the call just as Natasha slides into her seat.

“I take it no one is dying.”

“No one is dying,” says Maria, taking one of the drinks from Natasha’s hand. “Phil’s inviting us to Jemma Simmons’ birthday.”

“O... kay?” Natasha responds slowly, narrowing her eyes at her. “Why are you so tense all of a sudden?”

“I’m not tense.”

“ _Maria Hill._ ”

 _It’s like having a fucking spy for a wife,_ Maria sighs. “All right. It’s about Shield.”

“Shield.” Natasha looks away, smile on her face. “Okay, go on.”

“Go on?”

“Yeah, go on. It’s Jemma Simmons’ birthday and Phil is calling you about Shield. Complete your sentences, Maria.”

“Phil wants _Shield_ at that birthday party.”

Natasha chokes on her drink, laughing. “Seriously?”

“You’re _laughing_?”

Natasha takes a moment to lower her drink, composing her response. “Do you remember how young we were? Shield belongs to another lifetime entirely.”

“Exactly what I told Coulson.”

“But?”

Maria bites down on her lip, and just as Natasha’s about to tell her again to _complete her sentences,_ their lunch arrives in two trays. _Saved by the bell._ Natasha smiles at their server for a brief moment before sending him away with a request for two glasses of water.

“Tell me about Jemma Simmons,” she says, turning back to Maria. “One of Phil’s protégés, right?”

“Biochemistry major at the academy,” says Maria. “Thirtieth birthday. You know how those go.”

“I can’t even _remember_ what I did for my thirtieth.”

“You were probably on assignment.”

Natasha nods, lifting her fork. “Hm. Maybe I was,” she says, shrugging. “Anyway. Shield reunion for her thirtieth, hm? Poor girl must be so stressed out she _actually_ called Coulson to help with her birthday?”

“Actually, it wasn’t Jemma who asked Coulson. It was Skye.”

“Skye?”

“That other girl. You remember the trio? The other one’s Leo Fitz.”

“Of course.” Natasha looks at her, brow furrowed. “And Skye is... _co-organizing_ this birthday bash because they’re besties, right?”

Maria sighs. “Coulson thinks Skye’s in love with her.”

The frown on Natasha’s face turns into a sly smile. “Coulson is writing a love story. How about that?” Maria can’t help the smirk that spreads on her face in kind. “Well? What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was going to have to call him back.”

“Absolutely heartless,” Natasha laughs.

“You did catch the fact that I did not say no, hmm?” Maria pushes her food around her plate. Truth be told, she’ll never be _not_ fond of Shield, but then again – some things just end, don’t they? And with some things, the most practical thing to do is to just let it go.

“Well then,” Natasha says, resting her fork on her plate as she finishes her meal. “Has all this travel actually softened you up a bit?”

Maria smiles. She’s a long way from the Maria whom Natasha first met, and their travels are a big part of that. “Perhaps,” she says, slowly recovering her appetite. “Does that make _this_ somewhat less attractive?”

“I did sign up for a hard ass,” says Natasha, leaning closer to steal a carrot off Maria’s salad. “But it does still meet minimum standards.”

“Minimum standards. And those are?”

“Just somebody to see the world with. Preferably one who would not kill me in my sleep.”

Maria grins. “How’s that working for you so far?”

“Pretty well,” Natasha says, smiling smugly back in kind. “Small bonus: I have had no urge to kill her in her sleep as well.” Natasha pauses, like she’s thinking. “Well, once.”

“Once?” Maria laughs.

“A different sort of death, I assure you,” Natasha quips, and Maria feels the back of her ears burn ever so lightly. “You should call Coulson back.”

“And tell him what?”

Natasha leans back. “One night only, right?”

 _Is she out of her mind?_ “Natasha. We don’t have to.”

“We’ll just say hi, three to five days, then it’s off to Ecuador. Deal?” She extends a hand right over the table, and Maria shakes it like they’re actually closing a sale. “Besides—let’s help Skye get the girl.”

 _Help Skye get the girl._ Maria shakes her head, smiling as she lets go of Natasha’s hand. _Everything’s still an assignment after all this time._ “All right,” she finds herself saying. “Let’s help Skye get the girl.”

*


	3. Chapter 3

3\. Skye

The night they get May to say yes, Skye takes Jemma out for drinks. “To good starts,” Skye begins, lifting her glass to Jemma’s.

“Thank you, Skye,” Jemma responds, sipping gingerly from her glass. She had originally bargained for apple juice, but eventually gave in to Skye’s insistence. _Who drinks apple juice to celebrate?_ Skye had asked, and after much negotiation, Jemma finally agreed to a small glass of beer.

“No, no thank you’s yet,” Skye grins. “That was only one out of three. We still have to wait for Phil.”

“But you got _May_ to say yes – do you even realize what you’ve actually accomplished?”

Skye shrugs, taking a swig from her bottle of beer. “You can thank me once they’re singing on-stage. On your birthday.”

Jemma reaches over, hand on Skye’s on the table. “You’re a great friend, you know that, right?” Skye tries not to physically reel from the jumble of mixed signals right there; downs the rest of her drink in one go, instead. “You all right, Skye?”

“Yeah,” she just says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Just – long day, no?”

“Mhmm,” Jemma nods, yawning into her half-empty glass. “Want to call it a night, then?”

Skye struggles to hide her disappointment. _Get a grip,_ she just thinks, averting her eyes. _You’ve been with her the entire day._ “Sure. Let’s get you home.”

“You could stay the night, if you want. You still have unwatched ‘Adventure Time’ on my laptop.”

_Oh Jemma,_ Skye thinks, smiling as she opens the door for her. _What am I going to do with you?_

*

When Skye wakes, she finds herself in Jemma’s room, with the curtains drawn and Jemma’s side of the bed empty. The place already smells like coffee and the rustling in the kitchen tells her she’s woken late again.

“It’s 9 a.m. on a Sunday,” Skye groans, shuffling into the kitchen in Jemma’s pyjamas. As expected, Jemma’s already a _person_ , drinking her coffee while reading the paper on the kitchen counter. Skye pouts as she makes her way to the coffee maker, mug in hand.

“Somebody was up all night watching Adventure Time,” says Jemma without looking at Skye, still reading the paper intently, small smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“It was a Saturday night,” Skye says, mixing a teaspoon of sugar into her newly made coffee. “Not that I could help myself in the face of _Adventure Time._ ”

Jemma laughs lightly, stowing her paper away as she finishes her coffee. “Coulson’s been calling,” she tells Skye, handing her the phone. “You probably owe him a return call.”

_Shit._ If the coffee doesn’t wake her, a phone call with Phil certainly would. “Hey Phil. Sorry to answer the phone just now.”

“No worries,” Phil says, tone indecipherable as always. “I’ve had practice.” And then, “I talked to Maria.”

“ _Really?_ ” Skye asks, trying to steady her shaky, coffee-holding hand. “From Kathmandu?”

“Picked up after ten thousand missed calls. I think they were somewhere in the Caribbean.”

“Ouch,” says Skye, computing the long distance phone charges automatically in her head. “What did she say?”

“She said she’ll call me back.” Skye breathes out, sipping from her coffee to mask her disappointment. “At least it wasn’t a definite no,” Phil says, sensing the mood shift anyhow.

_Always looking for the bright spot,_ Skye sighs. “At least,” she agrees. “You’ll let us know if she calls again?”

“Definitely,” says Phil. Skye just about hangs up when Phil speaks again. “Skye?”

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a pause before Phil clears his throat. “Don’t worry. I think we have Maria.”

“Thank you,” she just says, hanging up for real. For some reason, it feels like that wasn’t what Coulson really wanted to say.

*

She finds Jemma in her room, laughing in front of her laptop. “Come here Skye,” she calls to her, noticing her loitering in the living room. “Fitz has preliminary venue decor photos.”

“These are prototypes, Jemma,” Skye hears Fitz explaining over Skype. “They’re _proposals_. Some of them are _supposed_ to look ridiculous.”

“We talked about flower arrangements, not nuclear reactors,” Jemma replies, still laughing. Skye tries not to stare at the exposed skin of her neck when she throws her head back to let out the sound. “Come closer Skye – say hi to Fitz!”

Skye blinks, pushing herself forward. “Hey Fitz,” she greets, leaning closer to Jemma. “That’s _definitely_ a nuclear reactor.”

“See?”

Fitz shakes his head, gesturing with his hands. “You _always_ gang up on me,” he complains.

“That’s because we love you,” Jemma says. It embarrasses Skye, how there’s a twinge somewhere in her gut. _Have you no shame, Skye?_ She asks herself. _This is Fitz. We love Fitz._

“Just get here already, Fitz,” Skye says in turn.

“Decor or no,” Jemma chimes in. “Just be here for the birthday, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Fitz says, flashing them a huge grin. “I got to go, girls. I’ll see you really soon.”

Skye watches as Jemma gives him a flying kiss before shutting her laptop; tries to ignore that pit forming in her gut. _Get a grip, girl._

“I think we should do a Plan B for the decor,” says Jemma, spinning around in her seat to face Skye, now seated at the corner of the bed. “What do you think?”

Skye shrugs. “I think nuclear reactors are _charming,_ ” she says, for which Jemma just swats her arm. “Ow,” she groans softly. “We can pretend there’s a theme – Nuclear Apocalypse, or something.”

“Nuclear Apocalypse,” Jemma repeats, tone amused – like she’s actually considering. “That has a lot of promise. We can ask people to come in costume.”

“I was _kidding_ , Jemma.”

“You think May would agree to costumes?”

“ _Jemma._ ”

“It’s still _my_ birthday, isn’t it?” Jemma smiles, pushing herself off the chair and sinking into the bed, right beside Skye. “You just have the best ideas.”

Skye bites down on her lower lip hard, watching Jemma smile with her eyes closed. “I’ve had a few,” she concedes. “I just got off the phone with Phil.”

Jemma opens her eyes slowly. “What did he say? Was he able to talk to Maria?”

“Maria’s in the Caribbean, but Phil managed to get through to her,” Skye says. Jemma gives her a small scowl – presumably in reaction to Phil’s long distance charges. “He says she hadn’t exactly said no, but it wasn’t a yes yet, either.”

Jemma looks at her, confused. “What does that even mean?”

“It means Phil’s still working it out, I guess.”

“Oh,” says Jemma, confused look dissipating. “Good then. We can always count on Phil, right? He’ll come through.”

Skye nods. “For the sake of your birthday, I hope he does this time.”

*

Days later, Phil’s call catches Skye in her apartment, just as she is about to leave for Jemma’s. “Got any good news for me, PC?”

“PC?”

Skye shakes her head. “Never mind,” she just says, clearing her throat. “Anyway, as you were saying—”

“Maria and Natasha are coming in tonight.”

_Some things should come with a_ Please be seated _warning, for crying out loud._ “They—what? Are you—oh my God, Phil.” Skye feels the blood leave her face and chill her nerves. “They’re actually coming.”

“And we’re meeting them at the airport,” Phil continues. “Where are you?”

“Home, but I’m about to leave for Jemma’s.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up at Jemma’s then,” he just says before hanging up.

Skye wonders how she managed to reach Jemma’s intact, what with her mind wandering throughout her commute. “Maria _and_ Natasha,” she mutters to herself, still in disbelief. “That’s three-for-three.”

“ _Tonight?_ ” Jemma asks, her tone laced with panic. “Why didn’t Phil say anything sooner?”

“I don’t know,” Skye shrugs, pacing around Jemma’s living room. Her body’s thrumming with excitement; it _hurts_ to keep still. “Maybe their movement’s _classified information,_ or something.”

Jemma rolls her eyes at her. “Might as well change the party theme to Spies and Superheroes, then?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing Natasha in a catsuit—”

“ _Skye._ ”

“I’m just saying.” Skye bites the inside of her cheek to keep the smile from spreading itself too hugely across her face. When she looks out the window, it’s just in time to catch Coulson pulling up at the curb. “He’s here.”

“He’s always too punctual,” Jemma whines, rushing to get her coat. “I’ll be right down. You go meet him.”

Phil’s ride is still sweet and shiny as ever. “Have I told you how much I love Lola?” Skye greets, running a hand fondly across the car’s newly polished hood.

“Every time you see her, actually,” Phil smiles. “How’s Jemma?”

“Panicking upstairs,” Skye says, staring at Jemma’s window. The light’s still on – meaning Jemma’s still in there somewhere, walking about nervously. “You could have told us _yesterday_.”

“Maria’s not exactly big on advancers,” Phil explains. “I got the call only this morning.”

“Talk about cutting it close. Where are they staying?”

“At the hotel, I guess. Until Pepper Potts finds them and insists on housing them in one of Stark’s guest rooms.”

“They still have a lot of friends here,” Skye says, watching the lights go out in Jemma’s apartment. “Seemed like a good life too. Why did they leave?”

“People always leave,” Phil just says, before heading back to the driver’s seat.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Maria

Maria considers asking Natasha just how long they’ve been away this time, but in the end decides against it. Natasha has a penchant for cruel exactness, and Maria isn’t in the mood for that.

“I think we should call Pepper,” Maria tells Natasha at the airport, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Natasha shrugs. “Because?”

“She’s bound to find out anyway.” Maria loads her bag into the baggage scanner, goes through security and waits for Natasha’s answer on the other end. “Last I checked, they’re still the town’s biggest employer.”

“I think we should call May,” Natasha says, smiling.

“Because?”

“Same.”

_Of course._ Maria sighs, rearranging her bag on her shoulder. They haven’t really talked about what happens when they see May – it’s not even _if_ , but _when_. “All right, we don’t call anyone.”

“Except Phil,” says Natasha, picking a spot to sit and taking out her worn Italian dictionary. _What a completely random book to pack,_ she thinks. The space they’re in smells like donuts and coffee, and Maria finds it hard to suppress her smile. “What are you smiling about?” Natasha asks, not looking up from her book, smiling herself.

“Nothing,” Maria says. “I’m getting coffee. Want anything?”

Natasha shakes her head. “Call Phil.”

*

Maria buys a cup of coffee from the farthest kiosk, and makes the call from there. “Phil,” she says. “We’re coming in.”

“Thank you, Maria,” says Coulson, the relief so palpable in his voice. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“We’ll figure it out,” she just says. “The hotel’s never full this time of the year.”

“Airport then?” Coulson asks. Maria gives him their flight number before hanging up.

Maria scrolls through her phone book while sipping her coffee. She remembers how this used to have more names – through the years, she’d always found one more contact to delete: Old agents, media contacts from Natasha’s photographer days, suppliers. In the end, she managed to whittle it down to the basics: Phil, Pepper, May.

_May._ It’s been so long since the fall-out that Maria sees the real reason behind it as a blur, at best. _I doubt May has ever forgotten,_ she just thinks. May and Natasha are similar that way – in many ways, actually, and always, Maria wishes she does not see it anymore.

Natasha is reading an old newspaper issue when Maria comes back. “How’s Phil?”

“Relieved,” Maria says, sitting beside Natasha. “Is that newspaper in _Russian_?”

Natasha laughs. “It is also two weeks old.” And then, “I was kind of serious about calling May.”

Maria looks at the clock. _So we’re spending the next hour and a half discussing this?_ “She’ll find out, one way or another,” she says. “Said so yourself.”

“You’re being a child.”

Maria tries her best not to pout. She sees Natasha’s point, of course; sooner or later, they’re going to have to talk and at some point, there will be no running from it. “I know.”

“I’m just saying – if we’re playing one more time, we better be on the same page. Even for just that one night.” Maria hates it when Natasha’s in this particular space – this space where she is _irrevocably right_. As it is, no amount of re-angling is going to do it for Maria’s cause.

“Do it for Skye,” Natasha adds. “Who knows how beautiful this particular beginning could be, hm?”

“Who knew Natasha Romanoff has such a soft side?” Maria asks, grinning as she nudges Natasha.

“Tell anyone and I’d have to kill you,” Natasha replies, sliding in closer and resting her head against Maria’s shoulder.

*

They spot Phil right away, standing by the door with his head down, presumably reading something off his phone. Probably Natasha’s message. Beside him are the two girls. _Would you look at that._ Maria tugs at Natasha’s hand and nods toward Phil’s direction. “They look very nervous,” Natasha leans in to whisper.

“I suppose our reputation precedes us,” Maria just replies _._

Phil spots them a split-second later, giving them a small salute as they walk over. “Maria,” Phil reaches for her hand first, shaking it firmly before offering a handshake to Natasha. “Ms Romanoff. Welcome home.”

“Great to see you too, Coulson,” Natasha says, before turning to the girl. “So. Jemma, right?” Jemma blushes furiously as she receives Natasha’s hand. “We heard it’s your birthday.”

“I—”

“Happy birthday, Ms Simmons,” Maria interrupts, handing her a small box. Natasha had picked it up at the airport during their layover. _We must have a token or something,_ she’d said. Maria had no quarrel with that. And then, turning to the other one: “You must be Skye.”

Skye’s just as flustered, but she manages a small, “Yes,” as she shakes Maria’s hand. “We’re—we’re really big fans.”

Natasha laughs—she _loved_ having fans, most of all. “Thank you,” she says, grip tightening around Maria’s arm. “This is as much a surprise for you as it is for us.”

“Long flight?” asks Phil.

“We’ve had worse,” says Maria, smiling. “Though we’d kill for a bed right now.”

“Understandable.” Phil moves for Natasha’s luggage, while Skye does the same for Maria’s. “This way.”

Maria rides up front alongside Phil. For a moment, she considers offering to drive, but Phil does not look like he is open to any such suggestion. In the back seat, Natasha sits between Jemma and Skye, who alternate at asking questions softly, discussing music, travel, photography. It strikes Maria as so orderly, and it makes her smile, thinking about these girls actually coming up with questions to ask Natasha while on the brief ride to the hotel.

When they get there, Natasha moves ahead to check-in, Jemma and Skye right behind her with their luggage. Maria hangs back, leaning against Lola beside Phil. “No particular reason you’re billeted in the only hotel in town that does not belong to Stark?”

Maria sighs. “We haven’t exactly called Pepper.”

“You don’t call Pepper--she calls you,” Phil says, smiling.

“Which is why I have had my phone off all this time,” says Maria. From where they’re standing they can see Natasha and the girls at the lobby, presumably still maintaining the small talk. “Natasha has allowed me only one phone call, and that’s the one I made to you.”

“And why is that?”

Maria pauses, considering her words. “She thinks I should call May.” She waits for any indication that Phil still doesn’t want to talk about May – there is none.

“And you can’t call Pepper until you’ve called May,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“Natasha knows how to make sure things get done.” At the counter, Natasha turns around and waves at them, beckoning them to come in. “Would you know if May already knows about this?”

Phil waves back at Natasha before walking toward the stairs, hands in pockets. “Considering how Skye couldn’t really look me in the eye these days, I think yes.”

Maria laughs. “If you’re running a spy school, these girls would totally fail at _everything_.”

“Thank God we’re not running a spy school, then.”

*

“May knows,” Maria tells Natasha, who’s unpacking their suitcases in the other room. “Phil says he thinks Skye’s on it.” She’s idly flipping through the channels in the living room; she’d gone far too long without television, she doesn’t recognize half the shows on the news channels.

Natasha walks back out of the room in an oversized shirt, one that makes Maria turn her head. _There goes my attention span,_ she thinks. “So May knows _we’re_ _here_.”

“More or less.”

“Was that why the girls were so twitchy?” Natasha sits beside Maria, too close that she’s actually on Maria’s lap. “God, they’re horrible at secrets, aren’t they?” Maria laughs, sliding her arm around Natasha’s waist. It’s been a thoroughly long day. “Does this mean you’re turning your phone back on already?”

Maria groans. She knows what’s bound to happen when she does that – _Pepper Potts_. “Maybe tomorrow,” she says, kissing the space below Natasha’s ear. “Or maybe the day after that. God I could sleep for a _week_.”

“You sure about that?”

Maria closes her eyes, smiling against Natasha’s throat. “ _Natasha_.”

“Just saying.” She rearranges herself beside Maria, toying with the hem of Maria’s tank top. “You did not just drag me halfway across the planet to _sleep on me_ , yes?”

“Maybe.”

“ _Maria Hill._ ”

“Just tonight?”

Natasha plants a kiss on Maria’s forehead before pushing herself off Maria’s lap. “Your call.” When Maria opens her eyes, she’s alone on the couch, and there’s a shirt just by the door to the bedroom.

_This woman,_ Maria just thinks, smiling to herself as she gets up from the couch herself.

*

It’s still dark when Maria wakes, and it occurs to her right then, how she’d missed running in the neighborhood. _Old times’ sake,_ she thinks as she puts on her running shoes, pocketing her phone and scribbling a hastily written note to leave with Natasha.

It’s not easy to forget about a town -- Maria knows this too well. _Like the back of the proverbial hand,_ she thinks, launching herself through the familiar streets. She’d always made it a point to run in their _other_ cities – but not one had been quite... this _quiet._

The phrase that comes to Maria’s head is, _A certain peace._

She deliberately avoids the streets around Stark Tower – for some reason, it always feels like Pepper Potts is watching. Maria looks at the building’s silhouette from afar, watching the sun rise from behind it.

Right on cue, the phone in her pocket starts buzzing. Maria automatically answers, expecting it to be Natasha.

“Flying into the city, and not even a _word_.”

Maria squeezes her eyes shut. “Pepper.”

“Jet lagged, Maria?” asks Pepper, though not unkindly. In fact, Pepper sounds... _familiar_. Like she always had in the morning, actually; her voice soft and hoarse _._ “How’s Natasha?”

“Asleep,” says Maria, stretching in place. “Sorry we didn’t call sooner.”

“I heard there’s going to be a little _reunion_.”

“A favour for friends,” says Maria. “As I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Jemma is a sweet girl,” Pepper laughs lightly. Maria can imagine her milling about, preparing her morning coffee. “And have you seen Skye? Totally _smitten_ , isn’t she?”

_Is there anyone else apart from Jemma Simmons who does not know that Skye is in love with her?_ “I have seen, and yes, smitten is a good word for her,” Maria says. She adjusts her earpiece as she resumes her jog.

“Running to clear your head, Hill?”

“Just getting my morning fix,” she replies. She wonders if Pepper _could_ see her running after all. “Why are _you_ up this early?”

“Habit,” says Pepper. “You and Natasha should come by. We’ve got room.”

“Tony always has room for Natasha,” Maria says, grinning.

“And here I have always wondered why you two just seemed so aloof.” Pepper’s laughing but Maria can hear a faint trace of sadness – easy to miss, if she weren’t paying attention. “Come to lunch.”

“Maybe,” says Maria. And then, “Have you heard from May?”

“You mean you haven’t?”

“ _Pepper._ ”

“I don’t even know why I’m still surprised.” And then, “Look. I’ll host a lunch. Get everyone together— _maybe_ a little press.”

“This is not an _event_ , Pepper,” says Maria, rounding the corner and finding herself back at their hotel. “You’re no longer our agent.”

“But this is a _reunion._ Have you forgotten how _big_ you once were?”

“This isn’t about that anymore.” Maria climbs the steps, greets the doorman with a tight smile. “We’re doing this for Jemma. One night only.”

“ _One night only_ ,” Pepper repeats. “That sounds like a really good pitch.”

“Pepper—”

“I’m going to have to call you back.” The line goes dead just as Maria opens the door to their room. Natasha’s up, preparing coffee for two. Maria smiles as she tries to tug off her earpiece discreetly.

“Pepper found you yet?”

Maria tosses her phone onto the sofa before sliding in next to Natasha near the kitchen counter. “Yes,” she says. “I was running when her call came in. I thought it was you.”

“Does she know about Jemma’s party?”

“She wants to host a lunch and get everyone together,” says Maria. “With a little _press_.”

Natasha can’t help but chuckle at that. “Classic Pepper,” she just says, handing Maria her cup of coffee. “Let me guess – she’s trying to make an event of it.”

“I’ve already made it clear we wouldn’t let her—”

“I doubt she actually heard you on that,” says Natasha, grinning above the rim of her cup. “Come to think of it – let her.”

“Excuse me?”

Natasha shrugs. “I mean, you can’t stop her anyhow. Let her make an event of it. God knows I’ve missed the rush.”

Maria reaches for her cup slowly, watching Natasha’s face. “You’re joking. Right?”

“Hmm?” Natasha smiles as she sips from her cup, looking right back at Maria with a brow lightly raised. “Live a little, Maria.”

“ _Natasha_.” Maria guns for her stern voice, but one look at Natasha reminds her how that does not usually work anyhow. “We’re _not_ Shield anymore.”

“Just you, me, and May,” Natasha shrugs. “Do you still remember how that went?”

Maria feels herself clenching and unclenching her fist – mostly an involuntary habit, grown from years of music. “I have my doubts,” she finally says.

“That’s what this is all about then? _Doubts_?”

“I don’t think I’m even wired for this anymore.”

Natasha stares at her, disbelieving. She lowers her cup slowly to the counter, before moving closer and taking Maria’s face in her hands. “Now, you listen to me,” she says, looking Maria in the eye. “You talk like it’s an _armor_ you put on or something.” She pauses, putting a hand on Maria’s chest, right over her heart. “It’s always here. The beat is _here_.”

Maria breathes out, nodding and licking her lips. “Yeah – you’re right,” she says, stepping back. “It’s just – I don’t even have _drumsticks_.”

“You have your hands, your pulse. We’ll get everything else later. Okay?” Natasha leans in, planting a soft kiss on Maria’s temple. “Now. Stop freaking out on me. And take a shower. In that order.”

Maria smiles. _Hot damn,_ she thinks, breathing in. _Natasha still knows the best things to say._ “Yes ma’am,” Maria replies, feeling lighter. She finishes her coffee before turning around, peeling off her top as she makes her way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of sweaty clothing in her wake.


	5. Chapter 5

5\. Skye

Skye stares at the still-wrapped box sitting on Jemma’s dresser, just a little incensed. _How is this box still unopened?_ It makes her want to scream. “What do you think is in it?” she asks Jemma impatiently, sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. Some mysteries, Skye knows, she can easily solve on the Internet; wrapped gifts are not among them.

“God, I still haven’t recovered from the whole thing,” Jemma admits, sitting beside Skye. “How is this even real?”

“And they even got you a _gift_.” Jemma grins, staring at the box by the dresser mirror. “For the good love of God, Jemma, can’t we open that already, it is _killing_ me.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Jemma pouts. “That’s _my_ gift. That I will open on my birthday, thank you very much, Maria and Natasha.”

It’s Skye’s turn to pout, and for a while they just sit there side-by-side, trying to out-pout each other and waiting for whoever to cave in first. “Not that I am totally surprised you’re the sort of kid who opens her presents on her _actual_ birthday,” Skye says finally.

“Sorry that my _emotional quotient_ is actually kind of high.”

“If that had been handed to me—” Skye points at the thing casually, to which Jemma responds with instantaneous swatting. “ _Hey._ ”

“Don’t you even think about it, Skye,” Jemma warns, trying her best stern voice. Skye tries to keep her laugh down in kind, only to fail spectacularly a few moments later.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

“I swear I will do you bodily harm if you open that box without my permission.”

“Bodily harm?” Skye repeats, brow raised. _Really?_ She thinks about testing Jemma, scooting over closer as if in challenge. “Think you can handle me?”

Against expectations, Skye feels Jemma press in even closer. “Are you underestimating me?” Skye feels her breath hitch right then, suddenly ultra-aware of how _close_ Jemma actually is. Skye swallows hard at the feel of Jemma’s chest heaving against her upper arm.

“Of course not,” Skye finds herself saying, mouth dry. Jemma pushes herself off her right then, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Good,” Jemma just says. “I promise to open in your presence, of course.”

“Good enough,” Skye shrugs, putting a smile on. _Get it together,_ she reminds herself. “What do you think is it?”

“Honestly?” Jemma stares at it some more before shrugging herself. “I haven’t got a clue.”

“You think they picked it out together?”

Jemma purses her lips as she considers the question. “Does Maria strike you as a shopping sort of person?” Skye shrugs, shaking her head uncertainly. “Me neither. I think Natasha picked this out. Probably perfume, then.”

“Or makeup,” Skye offers. “If Maria had been the one who picked the gift, what would it have been?”

“I don’t know,” says Jemma, falling into the bed on her back. “Maybe a sleek leather-bound notebook. Or something technology-related. Maybe a smartphone.”

“Must be nice, no?” Skye asks, settling carefully beside Jemma on the bed, careful not to fall too closely. “It’s all so... _domestic,_ don’t you think? All their plans for two.”

“And it’s not even so much that they’re _women_ ,” says Jemma. When Skye looks at her, she finds that Jemma’s eyes are closed. “They’re just... two _people_.”

 _You and me,_ Skye just thinks, tracing the profile of Jemma’s face with her eyes. _These are things we could be._ “Just two severely talented people,” she adds.

Jemma laughs. “Yeah, and that too.” For a long while, Jemma says nothing and Skye holds her breath, feeling her chest fill with _something._ “Must be great to just disappear like that. Go places with someone.”

Skye feels her breath hitch, the feeling in her chest escalating to an _ache._ “You are not allowed to disappear on me, Simmons,” she says, trying to keep her voice level. “Like, ever.”

Jemma breathes in, stretching as she turns to her side, facing Skye. “You’re coming with me,” she says, grinning, poking Skye in the chest gently. “I mean, you are, right? If ever.”

 _If ever._ “In a heartbeat,” Skye says, blinking. Jemma’s too close, it _frightens_ her. “I mean.”

“Yeah.” Jemma lifts her hand to touch Skye’s face, and Skye pulls back, like Jemma had just burned right through her skin. “Skye?”

“Jemma, look--”

“I’m _looking_ ,” she says softly. “Are you?”

Skye knows a thing or two about kissing, sure -- but right there, faced with Jemma’s soft question, it feels like everything she’s ever known has been whittled down to just _one thing_. Skye blinks slowly, noting her shaky breathing.

“Are _you?_ ”

“Yes,” Skye nods. “Yes, I am looking, and that is all I have ever done, Jemma, have you any idea—”

Against all expectations, it is Jemma who breaks first, leaning in and drowning out the rest of Skye’s words with her lips, holding Skye’s face in her hands, gently. Skye doesn’t breathe; the kiss takes forever, and Skye just lets it, threading her fingers absently into Jemma’s hair.

“There you go,” says Jemma, breaking the kiss to come up for air. Skye opens her eyes slowly, and when she does, all she can see is Jemma’s mouth. “That wasn’t so hard, was it.”

Skye bites down on her lip, feeling her face burn. “Jesus, Jemma—what—” she asks, blushing furiously.

Jemma laughs – nervous and mischievous all at once. “I don’t know,” she says, sliding her hands down Skye’s neck and settling them upon her shoulders, casual and light. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

“No idea either.” Skye laughs, reaching for Jemma finally, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. _From bodily harm threats to this,_ Skye muses, laughing lightly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Skye says. “I was just thinking about that bodily harm threat you had for me a while ago—”

“Oh, no – this changes _nothing_ , Skye,” says Jemma matter-of-factly, trying to keep a straight face. The effort, of course, falls apart less than ten seconds later, when Jemma starts giggling uncontrollably. “All right, maybe it changes _some_ things.”

“Does this involve you not hating me when I open the box without asking permission?”

“ _Skye,_ ” says Jemma, reprimand in her tone and her eyes wide. “We just got to _kissing._ Can we take this a bit slower?”

 _Slower,_ Skye repeats in her head. “You have a dubious definition for the word _slow_ ,” Skye says. “But since you asked so nicely – slow it is.”

*

The first time Skye wakes in the morning after, she finds herself in Jemma’s bed, still wearing the clothes from the night before, and her lips feel swollen but in a _good_ way. This time, Jemma’s still asleep, huddled beside her for warmth.

Skye takes one look at the window – the early morning sun has begun filtering through Jemma’s curtains. _We’ve got time,_ Skye thinks, closing her eyes.

*

When Skye wakes a second time, it is already warm, and she is already alone. In the kitchen, she can hear Jemma’s pacing, presumably with her coffee. _Oh no,_ Skye thinks, poking her head into the room slowly.

“Everything okay here?” Skye asks cautiously. “I heard pacing.”

“That was Pepper Potts,” Jemma says, staring at her phone on the counter. “Did you know I was just on the phone with the CEO of Stark Studios?”

Skye breathes out. _Okay, so not about last night._ “You were?”

“Yeah, she was—did we ever inquire about holding it in one of Stark’s hotels?”

“No, we didn’t—it was way out of our budget,” says Skye. While they knew Phil is a friend of the Starks, they didn’t want to max out their favours. “You are not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

Jemma takes a quiet drink from her tea, trying to appear calm. “I think Ms Potts just offered one of her hotel’s ballrooms,” she says. “And I think I just said yes.”

Skye feels her eyes go wide. Stark hotel ballrooms are _the_ event places in town – and they’re easily eighty to a hundred grand per _night_. “What’s the catch?”

“Shield.”

 _Of course,_ Skye thinks, wondering why she is even surprised. Stark Studios was Shield’s home, and Pepper’s closeness with Maria has been the subject of speculation for _years_. In fact, for a time, fans – Jemma and Skye included – believed it was Pepper’s fault that Shield quit the scene when they were practically at their peak. (Years later, Maria herself would insist this wasn’t true this in an interview in Amsterdam.)

“What about Shield?”

“She mentioned a _luncheon_ —”

“Who even calls lunches _luncheons_ right,” Skye says, laughing. “But all right – go on.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, laughing in kind. “Well, Pepper does, and she’s asking about what we’re doing later.”

“ _Later_?” Skye pauses in mid-stir. “I am not awake enough for this yet.”

“Then you better drink your coffee,” says Jemma, finishing her tea. “Because I think we’re having lunch with the Starks in a few hours.”

*


	6. Chapter 6

6\. Maria

“You ready?”

Maria breathes in and shrugs. “As ready as I could be on such short notice, I suppose.”

Natasha smiles. “Fix your face,” she tells Maria, sticking her tongue out at her. Natasha knows just how deeply Maria resents sudden changes in plans – or in this case, the sudden _addition_ of one. “Then come over and zip up my dress for me.”

_Now there’s something to smile about,_ Maria thinks, shuffling over toward Natasha. “Yes ma’am,” she murmurs, planting a soft kiss against Natasha’s nape. “You seem _very_ okay with this.”

“And I wouldn’t be because?”

Maria sighs. “Nothing.” Natasha turns around, draping her arms lightly over Maria’s shoulders. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

“You’ll be fine,” says Natasha, voice low and soothing, her hands tugging at Maria’s collar gently. “I’m sure May’s going to be... _amenable._ ”

“ _That_ is supposed to make me feel better?” Maria says, managing a smirk. Natasha just purses her lips and raises her brow at her. “It’s just – it’s been a while.”

“It’s been a while for everyone,” says Natasha. “Plus, we only have a few days. I thought you wanted to get out of here as soon as humanly possible?”

_She’s got a point,_ Maria thinks, nodding. “All right,” she says, closing her eyes and breathing in, as she feels Natasha take her by the shoulder and turn her around toward the door.

“What?” Natasha asks when Maria looks at her in surprise. “We might as well enjoy the perks while at this.”

“The what?”

“ _Perks,_ ” says Natasha, grinning as she puts her phone to her ear. “We’re on our way down.”

When Maria steps out of the building, there’s an SUV waiting up front. _Of course._ Maria shakes her head, looking at Natasha. “Pepper sent us one of Tony’s SUVs,” she tells her matter-of-factly.

Natasha smiles. “I have eyes,” she says.

*

Inside the vehicle, it smells like lilacs. “Talk about a full experience,” says Natasha, breathing in the scent and settling in comfortably beside Maria in the back seat, her legs crossed. Maria looks around warily, her back straight. “ _Relax,_ ” Natasha whispers, leaning in. “It’s just lunch.”

Maria tries to smile. “Obviously, being with you exclusively for the past few months has done wonders to my social skills,” she says, and Natasha swats her arm lightly in response. “Did Pepper say anything about May?”

Natasha pauses. In that instant, Maria knows the answer right away. Natasha sighs. “Phil will be there, too, you know.”

“Meaning there’s at least one other person in that lunch who would be more uncomfortable than I am.”

Natasha puts a hand warmly on Maria’s thigh. “You sure have a way of putting things in perspective.”

_Perspective._ Maria isn’t even sure hers is still valid. People like to say that hindsight’s always 20/20, yet to Maria everything feels so long ago that the details are blurred at best, the memories’ edges frayed and torn. The only thing that remains clear, as it turns out, is the residual _feeling._

_How’s that for valid?_ Maria asks herself.

The SUV turns sharply at a curve, catching Maria by surprise, and her hand shoots out to grip the door handle.

“You all right?” asks Natasha. Maria only nods.

When they arrive at the hotel, Pepper’s waiting for them on the steps, and Maria can only blink as Natasha goes out first to greet her.

“Natasha,” she hears Pepper say, kissing one cheek briefly as they hugged. “How was your drive?”

“Very comfortable. Thank you,” says Natasha, turning to Maria finally, like she’s just been _remembered_. “Wasn’t it, hon?”

_Ah, here we go,_ Maria thinks, finally getting what Natasha’s doing – this subtle territory-marking. Maria finds herself smiling as she feels Natasha’s hand upon the small of her back. _Touche._

“Maria?” Pepper says, smiling like she doesn’t know what to make of this small moment. “How was the drive over?”

Maria clears her throat. “It was perfect,” she says, sliding her arm behind Natasha in kind. “Thank you for having us.”

“So _formal,_ aren’t we now, Ms Hill?” says Pepper, and when Maria just smiles, Pepper nods, stepping aside. Like she’s saying, _Okay, let’s take it slower, then._ “Come in, the food’s almost ready.”

Of course, Maria knows that’s an understatement – Pepper’s always been one to under-promise and over-deliver, and true enough, as soon as they step into the hall, it already smells _delicious._ “So much for almost,” Maria finds herself muttering, and Natasha goes ahead and walks in, dragging Maria along right behind her.

“Renovated ballroom?” asks Natasha, quickly grabbing two drinks by the door. The breakfast spread is ready, and the space smells like pancakes. “Did the invite say breakfast or lunch?” When Maria turns to her, Natasha’s already busy with an orange, peeling it slowly and grinning right at her while at it.

“ _Natasha,_ ” Maria says, throat suddenly tight at the sight.

“What?”

“Stop playing with your food.” Maria chews down on her lip to keep from laughing. _Oh, Natasha,_ she thinks, looking around. _What am I going to do without you?_ Around her, the venue has started filling with people – there are a handful of faces she thinks she recognizes from years back, but only barely. _Where do the years go, really?_ she thinks idly, looking for Phil.

Maria knows of May’s arrival just by the hush that falls on the crowd. They’re sitting with Phil and the girls when it happens, and Maria tries to ignore the slight tremble in Phil’s fork-holding hand – it lasts no more than a couple of seconds, yet Maria’s still keen enough to notice.

“Here we go,” Maria hears Natasha mutter before pushing her seat back and standing. Maria reaches for her wrist and tugs. “ _Maria,_ ” says Natasha without looking at her. “Come on.”

_Come on._ There’s a twinge of annoyance there that Maria finally senses. _About damn time Natasha’s had enough,_ Maria thinks. She knows she’s being a child about it; knows there are far better, more adult ways to go about this. If only Maria could rid herself of that sick feeling in her gut – that feeling that this has gone on for far too long to be reparable.

Maria watches as Natasha reaches May by their table across the room. May’s sitting with Pepper, and Natasha’s there now, smiling and gesturing with her hands. May’s smiling in kind – which is an absolute surprise for Maria, one that eases something, at least – and Pepper, too. Like they’re all having a grand time, standing there together again, after all these years.

_I wish I had Natasha’s social skills._ Maria drinks to that wish, before turning away.

“Remind me why you and May stopped talking,” Phil says, interrupting her thoughts. When Maria looks around, their table is empty.

“Where’s Jemma and Skye?” The two have been inseparable since they first got here; perhaps Skye doesn’t need _help_ after all.

“Hanging out at the dessert spread, I assume,” says Phil. He’s smiling now, elbows on the table, his sleeves rolled up. Maria finds herself smiling at that. _A casual Phil. Who would have thought?_ “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because you look so comfortable,” says Maria. “I’ve never seen you this relaxed.”

“I should tell you about Tahiti sometime,” Phil says. “It’s a magical place.”

“You should show us some pictures.”

“Maybe after Natasha’s done with May.” Phil clears his throat, adjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You never answered my question.”

“Which question?”

“You know which.”

Maria sighs. “I can’t even remember what it was, really,” she says softly. A lie, of course – she remembers more than she’s ever let anyone in on, yet for all the repetition, Maria’s grown comfortable believing it. In their huddle across the room, Natasha and May seem to be talking a bit more intensely, but not in a way that worries Maria. “Basically, it’s about Natasha.”

“May was really mad about that, huh,” Phil says. “I remember the fall out like it was yesterday.”

_The fall out_. When Phil puts it like that, it really seems like it was all a disaster. “I’m sorry,” Maria finds herself saying. It comes back to her in brief jabs: The look on May’s face that moment she found Maria with Natasha; May’s handwriting on the note that told them she was leaving Shield. That had been the beginning of the long-winded end, and Phil was right in the middle of it.

“I think she’s ready for you again, Maria,” says Phil. “Don’t you think?” Maria laughs at that, the sound hurting in her chest. “It’s been a handful of years. How much longer would anyone need?”

Across the room, Natasha’s laughing openly at something May’s saying, and Pepper’s still standing there in the middle, like she’s ready for anything.

_How much longer indeed._ Maria shrugs, patting Phil’s arm as she gets to her feet. “Only one way to find out,” she says before moving.

*

Natasha catches her eye about halfway through the effort, her face a mix of feelings. _She can’t decide whether to worry or be proud,_ Maria thinks as she keeps going, her heart pounding as she comes closer.

“Maria,” Pepper says, surprise in her voice.

May turns around slowly. Maria stays rooted to her spot, hands in pockets, holding her breath. _Come on._

“Maria,” says May finally, meeting her eye. “Long time.”

Maria breathes out. “Yeah,” she says, holding May’s eyes – surprisingly devoid of the rage that Maria had been preparing for all these years. “Long time.”

May extends a hand, which Maria receives, a bit shakily. “I hear we’ve got a show to prepare for,” she tells Maria, smiling now. All Maria could think about is how _warm_ her hand is, right this moment.

“Looks like this reunion is getting better,” Pepper chimes in.

“A bit of warning though—I’m kind of rusty,” says Maria.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s Natasha, and she’s smiling at her so widely, to Maria it feels like her face is going to break. And then, turning to May, Natasha adds: “She’s worried about having lost the beat.”

May laughs. “Nobody loses the _beat_ ,” she says. “Especially not Maria Hill.”


End file.
